


Hypothetically Speaking

by Ellessey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: College, Doggy Style, Future Fic, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Study Date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:26:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7237255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellessey/pseuds/Ellessey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Kuroo's door looks just like Daichi's, but a more faded brown. Daichi lifts a hand to knock, considers turning around and leaving, and then mentally shakes himself. <i>You can do this. Kuroo is a good guy. Just go in there and be normal. Understand statistics. Chill the hell out.</i></p><p>He knocks and the door opens almost immediately, and Daichi cannot chill out. He cannot chill out at all.</p><p>Kuroo's chest is bare. And wet. A towel is wrapped low on his hips.</p><p>"You're kidding me," Daichi says.'</p><p>--</p><p>Daichi needs help understanding two things: Statistics, and Kuroo Tetsurou.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hypothetically Speaking

Daichi is almost five minutes late for his first class of the day, the first class of his first semester of college. This is not how he wanted to begin things. He cringes and tries to look apologetic when he slips inside, but the professor eyes him the whole time he's shuffling up the aisle to the only empty desk left, right behind a tall guy with black hair.

He sinks into the seat and pulls out a notebook and pen, looking up to see what he's missed. Except he can barely see a thing because the guy in front of him is _so_ tall, his hair styled with such a ridiculous amount of lift. He hasn't seen someone with hair this stupid since... _Oh my God_.

Daichi looks up to make sure the professor's back is turned, and then slips his phone out of his pocket, quickly pulling up his text conversation with Suga.

 **Daichi  
** _You will never guess who is sitting in front of me in statistics_

 **Suga  
** _Daichi...math is not your strongest subject. You should probably be paying attention right now_

 **Daichi  
** _what are you talking about? I'm not bad at math. Anyway, focus please_

 **Suga  
** _You've already told me i'll never guess_ ┐(︶▽︶)┌

 **Daichi  
** _youre such a shit Suga. Fine...it’s Kuroo Tetsurou._

 **Suga  
** _reeeaally~_

 **Suga** **  
** (￢‿￢ )

 **Daichi  
** _Yes...why do you say it like that_

 **Suga** _  
_ _Probably the same reason you felt it necessary to text me while in class to tell me about the handsome, dark-haired captain sitting in front of you_

This isn't the response Daichi was expecting, and he's starting to wonder if Suga knows more about what happened back in high school than he thought he did. He didn't think Suga knew anything, but maybe that was stupid of him. Suga doesn't miss much, after all.

 **Daichi  
** _It's just a surprise. To see someone from Nekoma here, thats all_

 **Suga  
** _Right, of course_

 **Daichi  
** _I need to focus...I think i’m supposed to be doing something_

The other students are digging through their bags and turning to talk to each other. Daichi must have missed some instructions.

 **Suga  
** _You probably are. Good luck Daichi!!!!_

Daichi drops his phone in his bag and looks around helplessly. Almost everyone is turned in their seats now, discussing something with the students around them. Everyone except Kuroo—it is Kuroo, isn't it?—who is still scribbling down notes. Daichi holds his pen to give the impression that he's doing the same, and studies the figure in front of him again. The broad shoulders tapering into a narrow waist, arms lean but well-muscled. And that hair, that fucking hair.

The last time Daichi saw it he'd had one hand tangled in the ridiculous fringe that he can see sticking above Kuroo's head on one side now, and the other down the back of his shorts. Daichi's face floods with heat just thinking about that day, the game he and Kuroo had set up for their teams just for fun, before all the third years set off for different colleges. Daichi hadn't asked Kuroo where he was going, he hadn't said much of anything when Kuroo had cornered him outside the gym while everyone else was inside, still saying goodbye. He knew what was coming. It had happened before.

Daich was putting his phone away after taking a quick call from his dad, and Kuroo came swaggering over, all long limbs and flashing eyes.

 _"Good game, Sawamura,"_ he'd said.

 _"Yes, you too."_ Daichi had tried to smile warmly even though they'd lost, and that wasn't how he wanted their last game to go, even if it wasn't official. It was a little hard to feel down though, with Kuroo looking at him the way he often did, eyes narrowed a little like a cat about to pounce.

 _"Hey,"_ Kuroo had said, his hand closing around Daichi's wrist. _"Come here."_

Daichi hadn't argued, just let Kuroo drag him around the corner of the building.

 _"You look like you could use a little pick-me-up,"_ Kuroo said, as if they needed a reason to do this, and then he was pressing Daichi back against the rough bricks, and Daichi's hands instinctively flew up to pull Kuroo closer, because this was what they did. Always rushed, always hidden, always cut off by the approach of one of their teammates before they could do more than run their hands over each other’s bodies through their clothes, and jam their tongues in each other’s mouths for a couple minutes.

This time was the same at first, hurried and a little clumsy. Neither of them saying another word, just gripping each other's sweaty t-shirts and exchanging messy kisses, until a few minutes had passed and there was no sign of anyone coming after them. Kuroo bent his knees then, enough to be able to grind his cock against Daichi's through their volleyball shorts. Daichi had cupped Kuroo's ass with one hand, marveling at the warm, smooth skin against his palm, and sucked at the base of his neck so that he wouldn't make any noise as Kuroo rocked into him with quick, jerky movements.

Minutes later Kuroo was groaning softly, and Daichi was biting his lip as he spilled hot and wet in his shorts, with Kuroo's hips still pressed against his. And then suddenly it was over. They’d done it, they’d gotten off together finally, and then Kuroo had stepped back, leaving Daichi shaky and a little cold, and smiled as if they'd just been having a pleasant discussion about the weather.

_"Well...best of luck, Sawamura-san."_

_"Right. And you,"_ Daichi had said, waiting until Kuroo had turned and walked away to pull at his shorts, trying to get the sticky material off his skin.

And that was it. Daichi hadn't said anything to anyone, though Suga had eyed his flushed cheeks when he'd come out of the locker room in fresh shorts, and Kuroo had left without another word, without a text through the months between the end of high school and the beginning of college. It was what Daichi had expected, what he _should_ have expected anyway, but he could admit, if only to himself, that he’d been disappointed. That he’d hoped maybe it wouldn’t have to end so quickly. That maybe, at least until college started, they could take the time to explore whatever it was that drew them together in quiet corners whenever volleyball brought them to the same place.

He hasn’t heard from Kuroo though, not once. Andd now...here he is, inches away from him. His pen finally going still and the muscles in his back shifting as he begins to turn in his seat.

"Hey!” he says, when he's spun around to see who’s sitting behind him. "Look who it is!"

"Kuroo," Daichi says, trying to sound mildly surprised and otherwise completely devoid of emotion. "I didn't know you were going here."

"I wasn't! But plans changed at the last minute, and now here I am. What a nice surprise!"

Was it? Was it not awkward for Kuroo at all, like it was for Daichi? Were the things they’d done that forgettable?

"Er, yeah. It's...it's good to see you. I guess you'll be trying out for the team then, yeah?"

"Yeah! In three weeks right? Is Suga-san here, too?"

"No, no he's at Miyagi University. Hey, um, are we supposed to be doing something? Like for class?"

"Oh! Yeah, we're supposed to exchange numbers with a classmate so we don't have an excuse to ever miss assignments. You want mine?"

What Daichi wants is for the earth to open up below him and swallow him whole. He already has Kuroo's number. He never deleted it from when they'd exchanged numbers during summer training camp, but clearly he’s the only one who's been hanging on.

"Yeah, sure," he says, retrieving his phone and holding it so Kuroo won’t be able to see the screen, while he rattles off the number that Daichi has listed right in front of him.

"And yours?" Kuroo asks, and Daichi gives it to him, wondering how it’s possible that there is nothing, no sign at all, that this oversized idiot had ground his first non-solo orgasm out of him against the gym building just three months earlier.

"Great!" Kuroo says. Daichi wants to punch him for being so friendly and normal. "Want to hang out later? Catch up?"

"Uh, no. I mean thanks, but I have plans." He does not have plans. He has a weird roommate who makes Daichi uncomfortable, and a best friend who is too far away. But he also doesn’t need to start thinking about Kuroo again, so this is for the best. "I'll just see you at tryouts."

"Oh, sure," Kuroo says, unfazed. Then he turns completely in his seat so he can lean his elbow on Daichi's desk. "Is it a date? Is it that hot manager of yours? Or no, the captain! That cute one with the short hair? What was her name?"

"Michimiya? No, no...it's not..."

"Wait! Is it Suga?"

"No! It's not...it's not a date. I'm not dating anyone."

"Oh," Kuroo says again, his smile turning decidedly predatory.

"Look, I'm gonna get someone else's number...in case we both miss class the same day or something," Daichi says, trying to cut this conversation short and get Kuroo's dark eyes off of him.

"Why would we both miss class on the same day? Do you have plans I should know about?"

"No, I mean, hypothetically speaking, if we were both sick or something, we should just be prepared—"

"Were we, hypothetically speaking, making out? Is that how we both got sick?"

 _Oh, my god. Yes, you arrogant shit. Like how we actually, non-hypothetically, made out last year_.

"Kuroo, shut up and turn around," Daichi says out loud.

This only sends Kuroo's eyebrows up and makes his lips twist into a satisfied smirk. "Whatever you say, Sawamura."

Daichi glares at him until he's finally turned to face the front of the classroom, and then lets his own head fall into his arms folded over his desk.

This is going to be such a long semester.  

*

It's interminable, actually. Having to sit there three times a week with Kuroo in front of him, and Daichi swears that by the second week of classes he is not just imagining that Kuroo’s shirts get tighter every time he sees him.

On Monday he's wearing a black t-shirt that clings to him like a second skin, and he spends half the class with his hands folded behind his head, so all Daichi can see are the muscles flexing in his arms and his stupid long fingers laced against his hair. Whenever he has a chance, his arm stretches down to pull a handful of whatever snack he’s brought that day from his bag, then he holds it on his lap and crunches on it softly, timing each bite so the professor’s voice masks the sound. Daichi can still hear it, of course, because Kuroo leans so far back in his seat he’s practically on top of Daichi’s desk, but it’s not the crunching that bothers him, so much as the way he can see Kuroo’s jaw working. The way it manages to remind him of Kuroo gritting his teeth as he’d come against Daichi’s thigh.

On Wednesday Kuroo mixes it up, and his t-shirt is a little looser, but it's white and might as well not even be there. Not only can Daichi see the smooth lines of Kuroo's shoulder blades where the shirt hangs over them, he can _literally see_ the fair skin of his back through the thin fabric. All of it.

And still, even though Kuroo talks to him each class, turning around when the professor is busy, cracking jokes and asking about some of Daichi's old teammates, he never says a word about the last time they saw each other, or any of their stolen moments. Which is fine, really. It's better. Because what would they even say? It was nothing, obviously. Just a quick release of the tension that built up when they played volleyball together.        

Daichi doesn't need that. He needs to focus. He needs his roommate to understand that, even with headphones on, Daichi can still hear his vaguely frightening music when it's cranked up to max volume, and it makes it very hard to concentrate on the work that is piling up for all of his classes. It's just the second week, volleyball hasn't even started yet, and Daichi is already overwhelmed. And Kuroo? Kuroo is just a flirt. He's distracted and unfocused and he...he got a 97% on the quiz their professor has just handed back to them. And Daichi got a 56%. Shit.

"Kuroo," Daichi hisses. "Kuroo!"

Daichi waits for the familiar play of muscles as Kuroo moves, the way he has to turn far enough that his hair is no longer blocking his eyes.

Kuroo looks at him expectantly, eyebrows raised.

Daichi tilts up his chin, gesturing towards the paper on the edge of Kuroo's desk. "How did you...do you, I mean do you get this stuff?"

Kuroo twists in his seat a little more, face serious. "No man...I'm completely lost."

His voice is totally deadpan, and Daichi isn't sure if he wants to kick his chair or laugh—it was a stupid question after all—so he just rolls his eyes and mutters, "Fuck you."

"What's that?" Kuroo says, false seriousness lost to a teasing grin.

"Forget it. Nothing."

"Sawamura-san....do you need some help with statistics?"

"No, I...I don't know. Probably."

Kuroo's smile is full on shit-eating now. God, Daichi hates how much he likes him. "Well," he says, "from what I hear, Mori-san over there is _excellent_ at statistics. Maybe you two could set up a study session?"

They both look over at the small, light-haired boy on the far side of the room. Daichi has no idea if he's actually good at statistics or not, but he's currently putting a hell of a lot of effort into getting his finger as far up his nose as possible.

"You're such an asshole," Daichi says, and he tries to glare at him, but can't keep a quiet laugh from slipping out.

"This is true," Kuroo says, smiling. "However, I do at least have very clean hands." He holds both of them up in front of Daichi, his fingers longer and slimmer than Daichi's own. "Oh wait..." his eyes zero in on a speck of something on his index finger, and before Daichi can even ask what it is, he's slipping it in his mouth, lips forming a tight O around it, and then pulling it back out with a pop. "Chocolate. At least I'm sweet."

Daichi bites his own tongue to keep his jaw from dropping open, and Kuroo just looks at him, all innocence.

"I'm free tomorrow night, if you want to stop by and go over the quiz."

"I...yeah,” Daichi says. His voice sounds basically normal, if a touch breathless. Totally normal. “We can just...meet at the library though, can't we?"

Kuroo makes a face. "You can't eat in there."

"But you can..." Daichi was going to point out that he could eat before or after, but it doesn't seem worth it, especially when there's a part of him that really wants to see where Kuroo lives. "Fine, yeah. Thank you."

Kuroo nods, and tells Daichi he'll text him later to set up a time.

Daichi waits for him to turn away and then gets his phone out.

 **Daichi  
** _Suga...what do you know about Kuroo?_

 **Suga  
** _Probably less than you_

 **Daichi  
** _Okay thats exactly what I mean. what do you know?_

 **Suga  
** _I know the two of you couldn't stop undressing each other with your eyes every time we played Nekoma_

 **Suga  
** _and with your hands? every time you both disappeared for just long enough to get a little action?_

 **Suga  
** (^_~)

 **Daichi  
** _Why didn't you say something then???_

 **Suga  
** _I didnt want to make you uncomfortable Daichi. And you didnt bring it up_

 **Daichi  
**_i didn't_ _know what to say about it. It didnt mean anything_

 **Suga  
** _Ok_

 **Suga  
** _Does it mean something now_

 **Daichi  
** _I don't know._

 **Daichi  
** _No. it doesnt..forget I brought it up ok?_

 **Suga  
**_Okay. But if you want me to remember, just ask me_ ( ◡‿◡ *)

Daichi sighs and puts his phone down. He could talk to Suga about this, but then it would be a _this_ , and Daichi will just end up feeling stupid when Kuroo continues to flirt with him meaninglessly. Whatever it was they had ended in high school, and whining to Suga about it isn’t going to change anything.

He settles for glaring at the back of Kuroo's head. Which leads to him contemplating the back of Kuroo's neck, and how long it is and how perfect his skin looks, and how it tasted for those few minutes Daichi had his mouth on it. Like sweat and some undetermined sweetness. (Chocolate, it was probably chocolate.)

When the professor dismisses them Daichi shoves his embarrassing quiz in his bag and hurries out of the classroom, before Kuroo can turn and see any trace of longing that has possibly made its way on to his face.

He is _not_ longing for Kuroo.

He does _not_ get a little thrill in his stomach when Kuroo's text message arrives late that night.

 **Kuroo  
** _Sawamura-san! It's Kuroo. Tomorrow 8 pm? I'm in the old dorms by the Science buildings. 17B_

 **Daichi  
** _Sure, I'll see you then. Thanks for your help._

 **Kuroo  
** _Dont thank me yet_

 **Kuroo  
** _I still have to whip you into shape_

Daichi attempts three different responses before giving up entirely, and hoping Kuroo will think he's just fallen asleep.

*

Kuroo's door looks just like Daichi's, but a more faded brown. Daichi's room is in a newer building, though he would gladly trade his roommate and the growing collection of death metal posters on the left side of their room for some cracked paint.

He lifts a hand to knock, considers turning around and leaving, and then mentally shakes himself. _You can do this. Kuroo is a good guy._ _Just go in there and be normal. Understand statistics. Chill the hell out._

He knocks and the door opens almost immediately, and Daichi cannot chill out. He cannot chill out at all.

Kuroo's chest is bare. And wet. A towel is wrapped low on his hips.

"You're kidding me," Daichi says.

"I'm just running a little behind," Kuroo says, as if Daichi hasn't spoken. "Come on in and I'll get dressed."

"I—" Daichi doesn't even know what to say. Kuroo _knew_ he was coming at 8:00. He set the time himself. So how could he _possibly_ have ended up dripping and naked, with that towel positioned so fucking perfectly, so Daichi can see the sharp jut of his slim hips, and the trail of dark hair that he really _should not be staring at right now_. "I can wait out here."

"Don't be stupid, come on." Kuroo steps back and flaps his hand at Daichi, motioning for him to get moving.

"I—you're—" Daichi wants to scream. He can feel a blush seeping all the way down to his neck and it _isn't fair_ that Kuroo is doing this to him. "You have to actually be kidding me with this, right? Like, this is not just a coincidence."

Kuroo closes his door and faces Daichi. "What's not just a coincidence?"

"This!" Daichi almost bellows, waving his hand at Kuroo. "You! With your insanely tight t-shirts, and your finger sucking, and your inability to get dressed before someone comes to your room to study!"

"You know, you're a little frightening when you're angry, Sawamura-san."

"I'm not—" He is. He is really angry. Because he likes Kuroo and Kuroo thinks it's a joke. Because Kuroo is fucking with him now, he has to be, and Daichi does not like looking like an idiot. "I'm just...I'm right, aren't I? You're doing this on purpose?"

"Well of course I am, Captain, but I don't understand why that's making you so upset. I just wanted to _fuck_ you, not piss you off."

"You..." Daichi honestly and truly cannot form any more words. He just stands there with his mouth open as time passes by, and water slowly falls from the ends of Kuroo's wet hair. _Drip. Drip. Drip_.

"Sawamura?"

Daichi tries again. "You what?" There we go. Two whole words that fit together.

Kuroo walks over to his bed now. It's a single room and there's only one. Unmade, and probably smelling very much like Kuroo.

He sits, and Daichi forces himself to do the same.

"I just wanted to know if you were still interested. Or if you'd ever been interested at all."

"Then why didn't you _ask_ me?"

Kuroo shrugs, his high cheekbones turning faintly pink. "I don't know. You're hard to read, you know? You're so serious and together, and I just thought...I thought you probably weren't interested in anything more than what happened in high school."

Daichi takes a deep breath. His heart is still racing from his outburst, and now...now it seems there's no hope it's going to slow down.

"Is that why I didn't hear from you? You used to text me sometimes, and then...oh, well you didn’t have my number anymore."

“No, no, I did,” Kuroo says, huffing out an embarrassed laugh. “I just didn’t want to say that and then have you say you’d deleted mine.”

“Oh...but then...”

"I guess I felt like the ball was in your court," Kuroo says, and then smiles. "Heh...your court?"

Daichi smiles too. Or maybe he was already smiling.

"I didn't want to push anything," Kuroo continues. "I figured you'd text if you wanted to, but..."

Daichi hadn't texted. He hadn't thought for one second that he was the one in the position to make a call.

"You're pushing pretty hard now," he points out.

"Yeah, well. Now that you're here I can't just pretend I don't notice you. I figured I'd give you another chance to make a move."

Kuroo's voice is a little off, a lot less confident than it usually is, and Daichi realizes he hasn't given him a single hint that he _was_ interested. That he really, very much, still is.

"I'm a little slow sometimes," he says.

"Yes, I know. That's why you're here, right? Because you can't pass Statistics without me?”

"No...well, yes. Yes, that's why I came, I guess. But the reason I couldn't _not_ come even though it made me nervous was...because it's you."

"I make you nervous?" Kuroo asks, lips starting to tilt up in his trademark sly smile.

"You make me a lot of things," Daichi says honestly.

"What kind of things?"

"I spend every Statistics class mentally taking off your shirt. That's probably why I'm failing."

Kuroo is grinning now, but it's not obnoxious, even if it is a bit smug. "Just my shirt?"

"Well, that's all I can see from my desk."

"We're not in the classroom now."

"No, we're not."

Kuroo's smile turns wolfish and he leans towards Daichi, but Daichi stops him with a hand on his chest.

"Just so we're clear," he says, trying not to show how happy it's making him to feel Kuroo's heart racing under his palm. "Tonight, I'm fucking you."

Kuroo's heart manages to beat even faster. His eyes are locked on Daichi's, his cheeks a deeper pink now. "Okay."

Okay. So there's nothing to stop Daichi now from doing what he's been wanting to do since he first sat down behind Kuroo.

He crawls further onto the bed, and sits so his chest is to Kuroo's back, his legs spread on either side of Kuroo's. Then he rests both hands on Kuroo's shoulders and leans in to press his tongue to the top of Kuroo's spine, that little knob he can always see just above the collar of his stupid, skin-tight t-shirts. Kuroo's breath hitches, just slightly, and Daichi keeps going, running the tip of his tongue up to the top of Kuroo's neck. Burying his nose in the damp hair there that smells like shampoo and Kuroo. Sweet, and infuriatingly enticing.

"You know—ah," Kuroo breathes when Daichi finds his right earlobe and flicks it once with his tongue, before sucking it into his mouth. "You can...you..." he trails off, rolling his head forward with a sigh as Daichi sucks his way down his neck, his thumbs pressing slow circles into his lower back.

"What?" Daichi asks when he's reached Kuroo's shoulder.

"I was just gonna say you don't have to stay behind me, but—shit!"

Daichi has bitten down on his shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. He smoothes his tongue over it after.

"Mm...but I think I'm good with it."

"Good," Daichi says. Because he hasn't spent almost two weeks sitting behind Kuroo without thinking of all the other things he could do from this position.

He keeps working his mouth over Kuroo's back, nipping and sucking at all those smooth muscles that tormented him from beneath thin cotton, and he slides one hand around to Kuroo's chest. He wants to linger over the hard muscles there, and then the ridges of his abs, but he can't stop his hand from continuing all the way down to the nubby fabric of the towel still wrapped around Kuroo's hips. He runs his hand over it and finds the bulge of Kuroo's hardening cock, pulling a low moan out of Kuroo when he strokes it firmly through the towel a few times, before reaching back up to move the towel out of the way. He tries to flick it open with one smooth motion, but it doesn't budge. He wraps both arms around Kuroo's waist, wrestling with the damp fabric now.

"Sawamura..."

"Goddammit," Daichi says.

"It's...here," Kuroo says, lifting his hips a little so Daichi can tug the towel free.

It still doesn't budge. "Did you super-glue this on to yourself?"

"No!" Kuroo says, as if that was a legitimate question. "I don't..."

Daichi can see Kuroo's cheek lifting in a smile as he turns his head slightly, and then Kuroo is laughing and the towel is still stuck, and Daichi's forehead falls against Kuroo's back as they both lose it.

"I tried so hard," Kuroo begins, then has to stop while his shoulders shake with laughter, "to be as naked as possible when you got here, and now this _fucking towel_..."

Daichi is crying now. It's not the towel, it's just the joy of sitting here with Kuroo in his arms. The incredible sound of warm, open laughter, and the relief of knowing his feelings are returned.

He leans over Kuroo’s shoulder, one hand cupping his face to turn it toward himself, and kisses his smiling mouth. Kuroo melts against him, and makes a little humming sound when Daichi’s tongue dips inside, moving in slow swirling motions that they’d never had the time for during their previous furious make-out sessions. It’s nice like this, this slow give and take. Kuroo gently nipping, Daichi pulling back just to look at Kuroo’s swollen lips through heavy-lidded eyes, before pressing another kiss to them.

“The towel,” Kuroo reminds him when he pulls back again, and they both look down at it, resolutely adhered to Kuroo’s hips, before dissolving into laughter again.

"Just get up," Daichi finally suggests, wiping his eyes. "Stand, and..."

Kuroo stands, and that seems to do the trick. The towel falls just like that, and Kuroo is completely naked, his flushed cock half-hard and directly in front of Daichi’s face. Daichi swallows deliberately, feeling his own cock twitching against pants that are far too tight now.

"If you wouldn't mind," Kuroo says, kneeling in front of him and reaching for the button of his jeans, "I'd prefer you to be wearing a lot less clothing than you are right now."

Daichi can hardly argue with that. He can hardly do anything at all, other than lift his hips, as Kuroo makes short work of removing both his jeans and his underwear.

"God," Kuroo says, running his hands slowly from Daichi's knees to his hips. "Your _thighs_."

"My...thighs?"

"Yes, Sawamura. Your fucking thighs. How can so much muscle be..."

Daichi isn't sure what Kuroo was going to say, but he's certain it doesn't really matter. Not when Kuroo dips his head to lick a wet stripe up the inside of one thigh, and then down the other, stopping there to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to the inside of his knee.

"You, um...you like my legs?"

"I love your legs," Kuroo mumbles against Daichi's skin, kissing his way back up to the crease at the top of his thigh, before turning his face to breathe slow and hot over his cock. "Can you hand me the lube? Top drawer?" he asks without moving his head, so each word sends a soft, warm breath over Daichi.

Daichi stretches towards the nightstand next to the bed, trying not to move his lower body, and manages to fish out the small bottle and hand it to Kuroo.

Kuroo leans back just a little, so he can see what he's doing as he squeezes some lube onto the fingers of one hand. Daichi watches him, breathless, waiting for that hand to settle over his erection and relieve some of the aching that has been building up, but when Kuroo shifts it's his mouth that comes to close over the head of Daichi's cock, his hand disappearing behind his back.

"Oh....fuck," Daichi groans, uncertain if he's reacting to the heat of Kuroo's tongue running over him, or the knowledge that Kuroo is going to slide his own long fingers inside himself while he sucks Daichi off. "I can...do that, you know," he says, though at the moment, he definitely can't. Not with the way Kuroo is expertly taking him to the back of his throat in one, quick motion. Kuroo swallows around him before pulling back to smile up at him.

Daichi has never been more awestruck as he takes in pink lips, wet with his precum, and damp hair falling softly over half Kuroo’s forehead, the rest starting to curl upwards as it dries. _Huh. I guess his hair is effortlessly obnoxious,_ Daichi thinks, but it doesn't seem that obnoxious now. It's endearing, and it's _Kuroo,_ and...

"I've got it this time," Kuroo says, and Daichi's eyes dart to Kuroo's arm, watching it twist, before hurriedly looking back to Kuroo's face to see the way his eyes squeeze shut in reaction to his own touch.

Daichi doesn't have time to work up a response before Kuroo is leaning back in and swallowing him whole. He just stares, mesmerized by the motion of Kuroo's head bobbing over his cock, the rise and fall of his arm behind his back, until his toes start to curl and he realizes almost too late that he's about to come in Kuroo's mouth. And as much as he'd like to do that...

"Wait, Kuroo...stop. You have to stop."

Kuroo obliges, coming off with a wet pop, and now Daichi can see the way Kuroo's hips are moving, sinking down on his fingers.

"Are you...are you ready?" Daichi asks, gripping the base of his own cock unconsciously, so he doesn't lose it just watching Kuroo finger himself.

"Yeah...I..." Kuroo groans, grinding down against his hand once more, before pulling his fingers free and wiping them on the blanket hanging over the side of the bed.

He stands then, so tall and perfect in front of Daichi that it's hard to do anything but stare.

“Here,” Kuroo says, pulling a condom from the nightstand and ripping the package open. Daichi has to suck in a breath when Kuroo rolls it on for him, and then slides his hand down further to give Daichi’s balls a squeeze before grinning and letting go. "So, where do you want me?"

 _Everywhere_ , Daichi thinks, unable to take his eyes off Kuroo’s cock, heavy and leaking in front of him. Then he forces himself to get it together, to move so Kuroo can get on the bed. "Here," he says, "in the middle. Get on your knees."

Kuroo raises a dark eyebrow, but he doesn't argue, just crawls to the middle of the bed and kneels. His back to Daichi, and, oh...this is the first time Daichi's really seen his ass. It's flawless, toned and tight, and Daichi has to look away so he can move things along. Because he doesn't have to sit here imagining what it would feel like to take Kuroo apart and push inside of him. He can do it. Now. Right now, because Kuroo has already made himself ready.

Daichi takes a steadying breath, and then reaches to press a palm to the middle of Kuroo's back, pushing it forward. "Like this," he says, guiding him further down until Kuroo's hands are on the bed too. "God...I've wanted this so bad," he murmurs, using his thumbs to spread Kuroo open, feeling the slick lube on his skin.

"Did you think about this, too? In class?" Kuroo asks. "Or did you really stop at taking my shirt off?"

Daichi laughs softly, then presses his cock to Kuroo's entrance. "No I...I didn't stop there. I..." he pushes forward, just enough to watch the head of his cock sink into Kuroo, and Kuroo moans, his head dropping forward to hang between his arms. "I couldn't sit there and not think about how good you'd look when I took you from behind."

He keeps going then, as slow as he can make himself, not as slow as he means to, until he's fully inside Kuroo and he gasps at the incredible amount of heat and pressure. "Oh, my god," he says.

"Is this what you wanted?" Kuroo asks, his voice rough. "Do I look good with your cock in me?"  

Daichi hopes his answering groan is enough to tell Kuroo that it is, that he really does. He pulls out slowly, leaving the tip of his cock inside before rocking his hips and filling Kuroo again. And again. Just a little faster each time. Just a little harder, until Kuroo is whimpering and pressing his ass back against Daichi’s hips.

"Sawamura...if you're gonna fuck me, then _fuck_ me."

Daichi grins, leaning forward to press his hand to the base of Kuroo's neck and force him down further, so his head and arms are pressed into the rumpled blanket, and this...this is what Daichi has been waiting for. Kuroo's long, smooth back arching sharply, his ass in the air. Daichi leans into him, pressing as deep as he can, and then circling his hips to grind in just a little bit further.

"God," Kuroo breathes, his voice muffled by his forearm. "Please..."

Daichi circles his hips once more, then pulls back to thrust in again with a force he hasn't used yet tonight. Kuroo's back curves even deeper, and he cries out, his hands scrabbling for purchase in the covers now. Daichi plunges in again, harder, quickly falling into a brutal rhythm that has Kuroo gasping as each thrust rocks him forward.

"Fuck, Sawamura... _Daichi_ , yeah. You're almost—"

Daichi's breath catches, and he pauses for a moment before adjusting his angle just slightly, and driving in again.

"Fuck! Yes!" Kuroo cries.

"Good?" Daichi asks.

"Yes, God. So good, you feel so good."

Daichi can barely handle Kuroo's voice, the way it shakes, the way it softened when he said his name. _Daichi_.

"So do you," he says, pressing his hand between Kuroo's shoulders and dragging it up the sharp slope of his back to his ass, pale and tight around Daichi's darkened cock. He rocks again, just the same way, and Kuroo's voice breaks again. Daichi's vision starts to go white then, with Kuroo so, so tight around him, and everything so slick and hot. His hands digging into Kuroo's hips to keep from sliding in the sweat shining all over their skin.

His hips are on auto-pilot, thrusting into Kuroo's ass to the rhythm of his frantically pounding heart, until the heat is too much, there's a roaring in Daichi's ears, and he falls forward across Kuroo's back, biting into his shoulder to stifle his moan as he comes.

" _Fuck!"_ Kuroo shouts, but Daichi is too lost in the tremors wracking his whole body to ask him what's wrong, and then he doesn't need to, because he feels Kuroo convulsing around him, jerking under him as he spills across the bed.

"Sorry," Daichi says, when he's stopped shaking, when Kuroo has gone still beneath his chest. "I meant to..." he pats his hand weakly against Kuroo's hip, trying to reach his cock, but not able to work up the energy.

"Don't apologize, stupid," Kuroo says, and Daichi can feel his quiet laugh. "You got me there anyway.”

Daichi forces himself to sit up, then rubs a gentle circle into the small of Kuroo's back as he pulls out.

" _God_ , _"_ Kuroo says, rolling over and collapsing on his back.

"Yeah," Daichi agrees, slipping the condom off and wrapping it in a tissue from Kuroo’s nightstand, before flopping down next to him.

Kuroo rolls his head to the side so they're looking at each other. His eyes are half closed, his mouth soft and not remotely smug. "Aren't you glad I didn't get dressed before you came over?"

Daichi snorts and reaches to flick Kuroo in the forehead, but ends up running his fingers through his hair instead. So dark and soft, and really not ridiculous at all. "Yes," he says. "But...I really do need help with statistics, you know."

Kuroo nods. "I know you do, your grades are appalling."

Daichi tries to glare. It doesn't really work.

"Maybe if when we’re in class you actually, you know, pay attention, and we have sex for real when we're _not_ in class, that will help the situation."

"Non-hypothetically, you mean?" Daichi asks.

"Yes, Sawamura-san...non-hypothetically. I'm not going to hypothetically make out with you when we can do this instead."

"Yeah, me neither."

"But next time?"

"Hmm?" Daichi says, meaning to look at Kuroo, but unable to get his eyes to open.

"Next time I'm going to very non-hypothetically pound your ass."

"Mmm," is all Daichi can manage. He's good with that. And with Kuroo’s head nestling into his neck, that fucking hair perfect and soft under his chin. He thinks about getting up and going back to his room, with his roommate and the posters and the music. And then he stops thinking, and just feels Kuroo’s breath on his skin, gentle and steady. He really doesn’t need to go anywhere at all.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was my very first fanfic, though I am just now finally posting it. I was slightly terrified when I wrote it because I didn't know what I was doing and kept messaging Esselle asking if I was somehow making irreparable errors. But it was SO much fun and I fell in love with fanfic writing, so...basically what I'm trying to say, as always, is thank you [Esselle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle) ♡
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> ([Tumblr](http://ellessey-writes.tumblr.com/))


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